


551

by GoldStarGrl



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:10:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldStarGrl/pseuds/GoldStarGrl
Summary: A blowout fight usually equals blowout sex. Spoilers for 4.09.





	551

**Author's Note:**

> Title's from the Dessa song about a disintegrating relationship! ("A man can keep you sane five hundred and fifty days/A year and a half/give or take an afternoon")

“You still want to be a lawyer?”

In a whirl of movement, Jimmy goes from staring at Kim’s reflection in the mirror to staring at her head-on. Her arms are on his shoulders. She’s the reason for the spin.

“Yes,” he says, because why else would he be this murderous, if not for the fact something more valuable than his own life had been taken from him?

Still holding him in place with that intense, unreadable glare, she leans forward on the balls of her feet and kisses him.

Out of pure reflex, Jimmy wraps an arm around her, presses his hand against the small of her back, maybe a little harder than normal. Drawing Kim in at the middle makes her bend backwards, and she reaches up to grab his hair, pulling him down, away from the mirror.

Jimmy’s scalp sears, but he lets himself be dragged towards the bed. It’s not that they haven’t gotten rough before – far from it – but this time he doesn’t break the heaviness with a joke, or a goofy face. It’s so quiet. Not that they normally play music or talk very much during. He’s just noticing the silence because for the first time he doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to break it.

The back of Kim’s knees hit the mattress and she falls onto her back, Jimmy toppling down after her. She lets out a little gasp as the entirety his weight crushes her without any warning.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. Kim just blows a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Turn over, scooch,” she says, and they awkwardly spin again, so he’s underneath her, their legs still hanging off the bed. Something in Jimmy’s stomach settles, having Kim’s knees planted on either side of his hips, her skirt half hiked up. This he can handle. This is their normal.

He runs a hand up her thigh, pushing her skirt farther up, but she smacks his hand away. Kim’s eyes are light, but normally they’re not so icy. She’s breathing too hard for the level of exertion she’s displayed. She grabs his wrist roughly, pinning it above his head. With her other hand, she unhooks her skirt and shimmies it down her legs, kicking his thigh as her panties follow suit.

Jimmy has a moment of confusion spiked with a little bit of panic. Does she want him to go down on her? Does she want to fuck? Again, his words seem dangerous. He doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to cause a crack in the thin, strange truce encasing them.

“Jimmy, focus,” Kim snaps, and, releasing his hand, tugs at his zipper. He doesn’t bring it back down, though. Instead he lifts the other arm, crossing his wrists and pressing them both into the covers. Kim gets his pants off, leans over and kisses him with her eyes open. She bites down on his bottom lip and _fuck,_ that stings.

Kim reaches down between them, strokes Jimmy a few times, enough to get him interested. Jimmy lets out an involuntary hum in the back of his throat, and feels his face warming. Kim usually teases him about his blushing, but today it’s making him angry with himself, like he’s angry with every other thing in his life, it’s all turned toxic and black. He lifts himself onto his elbows and hears himself saying–

“Can we hurry up, here?”

Kim stops jerking him off, lifts her head with the same slow, stunned disgust she had painted on her face a few hours before, standing on slabs of suspended concrete and feeling them shift under their feet.

She slides off of him and steps back, standing at the edge of the bed bottomless with her shirt pushed askew. “You want to say that again?’ She asks, cooly.

The part of Jimmy that’s still screaming and swinging at the air like a lunatic overpowers the part of him that normally turns pliable and soft and lets Kim fuck him however she wants. He sits upright, hands braced against the mattress. “Can we hurry up and _get off,_ or if this going to turn into another big production?”

Kim undoes the two buttons still cinching her blouse together, lets it slip off her shoulders. Jimmy barely has time to appreciate her cleavage –  today’s bra is standard white, but with a little bit of lace trimming to keep it interesting – before she slaps him in the face.

“Get _down_ ,” she says, and shoves him back against the bed with such force Jimmy cracks his head against the edge of the headboard.

His vision goes blurry for a second, and when it clears Kim's sitting very close, almost in his lap. Their legs all tangled together, his heel digging into the curve in her back, right where the swell of her ass begins. He can feel Kim’s own legs similarly curled around him.

“We gonna scissor?” He manages. Kim slaps him again, lighter this time, and sticks her finger in her mouth. Jimmy sits up, presses his mouth against her chest and sucks hard against her skin. His eyes flick up to watch her slowly pull it back out, coated in saliva.

The reasoning for the awkward positioning becomes abundantly clear as Kim rubs her damp finger against his entrance, pressing in insistently.

“ _Jesus,_ ” he hisses, because they rarely do this without lube and prep and all that capital C communication, and it _hurts_.

“You want me to stop?” Kim asks, but not like she’s really asking. Drier, more sarcastic. A rhetorical.

Jimmy presses his face into her neck. He can hear his heart in his ears, and his face has only gotten redder. He rocks on Kim’s hand, lets out another strangled moan as she works another finger in, the sting gets worse in a blinding flash before it gets better. The beauty of women’s fingers, he’s always thought, it they’re slender enough to get to _that place_ inside of him, yet big enough that when they do, he feels so _full_.

Kim yanks his hair again with her free hand, and he bites her shoulder like she’s flipped a switch. She exhales hard through her teeth and he feels a thrill of victory. Add this to the pinkish hickey he left on her breast, proof for at least a day that the great and accomplished Kim Wexler deigned to sleep with him, let him mark her like the immature screw up he was. 

He manages a few loose strokes up his shaft, and he’s so raw, so tired and shaky, he can feel himself slipping after only a minute or so. White, messy spurts stripe Kim’s bare stomach, but she doesn’t stop fingering him, pressing his face harder against her skin with the hand laced though his hair. If she can feel his eyes getting damp on her shoulder, she doesn’t say anything.

The hand in his hair disappears, and she pulls her index and middle finger out of him. Jimmy rears back, blinking too many times, his irises dark turquoise against the red rims. Kim reaches up with both hands and smoothes her hair back. Without a word, she lay down on her back, her knees raised and wide apart.

Still panting, Jimmy pushed himself onto his knees, and then over onto his hands, crawling the foot across the mattress to envelope himself in her legs once more.

Jimmy licks line after line down the length of her clit, occasionally letting his thumb take over and resting his head against the side of her thigh. He likes his inability to look her in the face, likes hearing her breathing become more ragged, less controlled and furious.

Wasn’t so crazy about the way her hand makes an abortive twitch on it’s way to pet his hair, how she normally did during oral, and instead recedes to her side.

When she comes, thighs trembling, something makes him pull away, back towards the pillows and the headboard that tried to concuss him. Kim presses her legs together and in the second she realizes his head isn’t there to trap, Jimmy feels his breath catch in his throat. Feeling like he’s about to caught or punished. Feeling like that’s exactly what he wants to happen.

But Kim doesn’t say anything. She just sits up, and stares at a spot in the wall, just above Jimmy’s head.

He looks at the back of her head reflected in the mirror, blonde waves curling into an end just below her bare shoulder. 

It is so quiet.


End file.
